No joke.

So I had to stop by, say hello, and ask, “How the hell are you?”

Jesus is still rocking on the dashboard. And you’re obviously still rocking in my heart. xoxo

I wish I hadn’t have said that now. You know you are my blogfather, Chuck. I read your story about hanging up the phone and I said, “I gotta do this.” You were one of the best, and you could still be if you continue. I don’t come here often, but every time I do I’m always pleased with what you have to say.

See ya, Tim.

I agree with you (and Jim) that blogging is pretty much over as a phenom. And I can respect your reasons for taking your life private.

But don’t for a moment compare yourself to some ‘urban outdoorsman’ who monologues down by the supermarket when nobody is nearby. The only difference between that guy and a normal joe having a normal dialogue is the presence of just one listener. Heck, in this age of bluetooth earphones I’m not so sure thee aren’t more crazy monologuists than we suspect.

What I’m trying to say is that there are a few of us who have roughly matched our chuck-checking frequency to your posting tempo… meaning whenever it crosses our mind. Personally, I try not to check every day for fear pressuring you to post.

I still go back and read you phone booth saga at least once or twice a year to remind myself where the bar really sits for the rest of us ‘johnny come lately journalers’. If you really plan to take that down, please give me a chance to archive it. Heck, I’d even volunteer to host it as a tribute to what kind of power the net once held, and to the giants who once roamed there.

I’ll miss you Chuck. Even when you went underground for a few weeks or months at a time… the certainty of another post was like knowing an old school or army buddy was just a phone call away; comforting.

You may go dark, but I’ll still think of you as my blogfather. And I will wonder – from time to time – if you and Beth are doin’ alright.

Thanks for all the great years… and thanks again for setting the bar so high.